


Iris

by NoelleLilacNotte



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Doctor James Moriarty, Jim's eyes, M/M, Mental Patient Sebastian, Neglect, No really i head canon that Seb has a color obsession, Torture, Yandere Jim, asylum AU, but he's already yandere soooooooo, color obsession, nonsexy shackles and chains, patient abuse, references to past abuse, war memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleLilacNotte/pseuds/NoelleLilacNotte





	Iris

“Hello Sebastian.”  
“Hey Jim.”  
James Moriarty stood in front of one of his favorite patients. The ex-sniper stared up at him, eyes full of admiration. He smiled for the first time in months. He only smiled when Jim was around. That was normal, right? Only being happy in the presence of your only loved one? Sebastian’s eyes surveyed the faded, rust-colored splotches on Jim’s lab coat. They were his bloodstains, little pieces of himself that Jim carried everywhere. He could remember all of them.   
Well...  
He could remember most of them.  
But Jim wouldn’t go off with some other lover.  
Right?  
He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, refusing to even consider the idea that Jim might love anyone more than him. Jim’s slender fingers collided with Sebastian’s face, grabbing at his skin and forcing him to look up into his eyes. Jim’s eyes, he decided, were the best part of him. His voice was gorgeous and so was the rest of him, but his eyes. His eyes were something to obsess over. Pretty brown eyes. No. Sebastian mentally smacked himself. Jim’s voice did too. Not the voice looming over in front of him, the one that had been whispering to him since he was a child. He looked back into his handler’s eyes. No, not brown. Not brown, he decided. Not chocolate either. Too sparkly for chocolate. Not red enough for mahogany. Not yellow enough for amber, not blue enough for ocean mud. His mind raced, searching every memory he had, trying to find the perfect word to describe the brilliant, gorgeous, psychotic eyes that stared into his very soul. He remembered a time before the hospital, after he’d only met Jim once. Back in the army, on the battlefield. He remembered blood spattered on a tree he’d been trying to hide behind. He could see it clear as day, the perfect comparison to his obsession’s eyes.  
“Rosewood.”  
“What?”  
“Rosewood.”  
“You’re not making any sense, Moran.”  
“S’not supposed to.”  
The black haired man sighed. Moran couldn’t even think in complete sentences now? He’d assumed one of the best snipers in the world would be stronger than that. Oh well, no matter. He unlocked the thick iron shackles that held Sebastian to the wall. He roughly gripped the arm of the much stronger man and practically dragged him to a much darker, bloodstained cell. Sebastian wasn’t surprised. Jim only ever came back when he needed to try something new. The sniper eased himself into a chair in the center of the room. The formerly white cushions were tinted red, grim reminders of the weeks he’d spend tied down, needles and scalpels splitting his skin. His eyes wavered from the gorgeous, ~rosewood~ tinted eyes of his keeper to the small metal table that always sat beside him. A row of hypodermic needles filled with a variety of liquids stared back at him. He wondered what they each did, resisting the urge to pick one up and run his fingers over its smooth, glassy surface. “No, Sebastian. Be a good boy and i’ll let you listen to my singing again.” Jim’s smooth voice called out to him, originating from the inside of the sniper’s head. He whispered an agreement to it, and calmly sank back into his chair. The tangible version of Jim wrapped his gloved hand around a glassy tube of translucent purple liquid. Sebastian closed his eyes, waiting patiently for the needle to push into his bloodstream. Eventually, it did. It lingered for a few seconds afterwards, Jim’s sadistic tendencies taking hold of him long enough to let the needle stay stuck in the sniper’s calloused skin just a little longer than it needed to. When Sebastian finally opened his eyes, he was met with the psychotic smile and perfect eyes of his captor. But when his vision started swimming and his eyesight wavered, he held on close to the sight of those eyes. His own eyes fluttered shut, the last thing he’d ever see, hear, or experience in any way being Doctor James Moriarty.   
And he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
